


so cute it should be illegal

by antikytheras



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Gen, Humor, Pets, border control, trying to pass a pokemon off as a cushion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antikytheras/pseuds/antikytheras
Summary: Raihan deals with not one, but two unwanted guests.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 126





	so cute it should be illegal

There is a Furret in Raihan’s bed.

This is alarming on three counts:

Firstly, while he absolutely adores his Pokémon, he still has to impose a _few_ boundaries in the name of obedience training, and one of the rules is that none of them are allowed on his bed.

(The couch is fair game, though.)

Secondly, he is fairly certain that he does not own a Furret. In fact, he has never had a particular interest in or desire to catch Furret. There’s a reason he’s the Dragon-type Gym Leader, and while Furret may be long, snake-like, and somewhat resemble eastern dragons, they are, as far as he knows, _not_ Dragon-types in any part of the world.

(They’re also too fluffy, and downright _cute_. There’s no way he’d be able to persuade the higher-ups to let him put one onto his team the way he had for Torkoal and Turtonator.)

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, Furret are not native to Galar. In fact, he’s pretty sure that they’re on the list of species restricted for import, with a heavy fine and/or a jail term of up to five years for anyone caught smuggling them in.

(He should know. Leon had just signed the papers yesterday, which means that Raihan had been privy to a long, slightly tipsy rant about environmental protections and ecosystems and maybe even something about politics. He doesn’t really remember too much of it. He does remember that there used to be three bottles of good wine in his now-empty kitchen cupboards.)

So Raihan can only stare at the offending critter curled up on his bed while he stands in the doorway clutching his bundle of clean laundry with his jaw hanging open.

The Furret cracks one eye open. It is a big, round, innocent eye. It is also looking right at him.

The very illegal Pokémon purrs, and goes right back to sleep.

For some reason, Flygon is the most put out about their uninvited guest.

Goodra, for all her clingy, jealous affection, warms up to the long, fluffy Pokémon almost instantly. It had been Flygon who’d angrily dived in to pluck the Furret off Raihan’s bed.

Even now, the colourful sand dragon keeps his glare directed at the oblivious Furret curled up around Raihan’s legs on the sofa, purring happily while Raihan strokes its fur.

‘So you’re saying none of you saw it come in?’

His assembled Pokémon all shake their heads, some with more vehemence than others. Most of them are just sleepy. They usually spend their weekends lazing around, trainer included.

Raihan sighs. ‘Right. I guess I should call for the—’

He stops. He has no idea how Pokémon control deals with unwanted species. Would they put the Furret in a cage? Would they even feed the Furret? Has the Furret had any food in the past day? Or in the past week?

The Furret looks up at him with its big round eyes and adorable curved mouth. It tilts its head and makes a little questioning noise.

It doesn’t resist when Raihan slips his hands under its midsection, and even gives a little happy cry when he lifts it into the air.

He’s not sure how much Furrets normally weigh, but something tells him that something that’s only slightly shorter than him should not be this light.

Flygon is still glaring at the Furret, but Goodra grabs the top of his head and gives him a glare of her own in warning. The two engage in a silent, motionless battle, and then Flygon looks away, defeated.

Pokémon control can wait. He has a poor, helpless baby to feed.

And the rest of his Pokémon too, of course.

He untangles the Furret from his limbs and goes to the kitchen, reaching up to one of the higher shelves where he keeps the Pokémon food and snacks. By the time he gets back to the living room, his Pokémon are already gathered around their food bowls, looking up at him with carefully manufactured cuteness.

‘Be good,’ he warns one of the Goomy, who had strayed too close to the big bag of Pokémon food. Goodra is quick to scoop up her offending child.

He pours out their morning portion, unmolested except for the intense eyes staring as the food gushes out of the plastic bag and into their food bowls.

Once he takes three steps away, they pounce.

Crunches fill the air as they devour their breakfast. Raihan is pleased to note that none of them are shoving or playing mean, and that the baby Pokémon are given plenty of space to stuff their faces.

Then he realises the obvious lack of a long, fluffy Furret.

His highly illegal guest is still curled up on one of the seats of the couch, exactly where he’d left it. It looks at the feeding area with a forlorn gaze, ears pricked up in careful interest, but making no move to join the ordered frenzy.

‘Go on,’ Raihan says. He has no idea if it even understands what he’s saying. He’s never had to wonder if Pokémon understood different human languages. Leon would probably know, that Pokémon-obsessed nerd.

The Furret only looks up at him, then at the bag full of food in his hands.

Raihan quickly holds the metaphorical bag of gold above his head. ‘No, stay.’

The Furret relaxes on the couch, but the tip of its long tail twitches.

‘No pouncing,’ he warns.

The tail continues twitching.

Raihan reaches in the bag of food and pulls out a handful, lowering his palm to the Pokémon’s face. ‘Good. Here.’

The Furret mews. It is very adorable. And then it stretches its face forward and begins eating out of his hand, soft tongue brushing against the rough skin of Raihan’s palms every now and then.

Raihan watches as it devours the food. It must be starving, the poor thing.

His doorbell rings, and the Furret freezes mid-bite, tail pointing straight up.

Raihan freezes, too. There is only one person in the entire world who is allowed to come bother him on his precious weekends, and that person also has a key to his apartment. If he doesn’t answer the door soon, that person is going to barge in, and then the Furret would be royally screwed.

With a wince, he shoves the rest of the food into the Furret’s mouth. ‘Don’t move,’ he hisses, gently stroking the Pokémon’s tail until it relaxes.

The Furret blinks up at him, then pads to one end of the couch, walking around in a circle until it curls up on itself and closes its eyes.

Raihan goes to the door and answers it as casually as he can. ‘Sup.’

Leon raises an eyebrow. ‘”Sup?” I thought you gave that up when we were fifteen.’

Raihan laughs. His voice cracks a little. ‘Yeah, well, y’know. Been thinking about new catchphrases. Can’t let the fans get bored.’

Leon continues eyeing him with suspicion. ‘I’ve been having trouble thinking of a new catchphrase, myself.’

Raihan swallows. ‘You wanna? Come in?’

Leon’s gaze sweeps from the broad line of his shoulders blocking most of the entrance, down to the bag of Pokémon food in his hands, before finally landing on the incriminating flecks of Pokémon food left on his other palm. His answering amused smile sends Raihan’s stomach into all sorts of strange loops.

He can feel himself being read like an open book. He can even hear the hidden accusation. _You never touch the food with your hands._

Instead, Leon only inclines his head. ‘May I?’

‘So formal.’ Raihan snorts. ‘Just come on in. I was busy feeding my Pokémon.’

‘I noticed,’ Leon says drily, but he doesn’t pursue the topic any further.

While Leon slips his shoes off at the entrance, Raihan forces his legs to carry him to the living room at a languid pace. The Furret is still there, in plain view, but at least it seems to be asleep. He’s glad that it’s so small. He has to really squint to notice the rise and fall of the Pokémon’s chest as it breathes.

‘That’s new.’ Leon’s voice floats in, too close to his right ear.

Raihan jumps, shoulder blade brushing against Leon’s chest. His rival has always had no concept of personal space, especially when it comes to Raihan. ‘Yeah, it’s a cushion. Present from a fan in Johto I think.’

When he looks back, Leon is staring at the Furret with an unreadable gaze. Raihan desperately hopes that his extensive Pokémon knowledge is limited to the Galar region. Then again, this _is_ the man who owns a very illegal Charizard that knows Solarbeam.

Somehow, Leon falls for it. ‘Hm,’ he says, disinterested, turning away. ‘I’m surprised you accepted it.’

Raihan usually gives his gifts away to charity. He makes more than enough from the sponsorships and his Gym Leader stipend, and he’s never felt comfortable taking things from his fans. ‘Yeah, well, Goodra really liked it. Couldn’t get her hands off it.’ It’s technically not a lie. It’s only a little lie. A white lie.

But then his Pokémon are eagerly chirping up at Leon and butting his legs for head pats, and Leon is sufficiently distracted. ‘I missed you too,’ he chuckles, scratching the back of Flygon’s head.

Raihan throws himself onto the couch, making sure to take the middle seat so that the remaining seat is furthest away from the Furret. He most certainly does not expect Leon to drop into that seat, lean in close enough that Raihan can smell the sweet lavender notes of his shampoo _and_ the orange, floral musk of his cologne, and pick the Furret up to plop it into his lap.

Leon has very long, pretty fingers. In another lifetime, he could probably have been a pianist. ‘This fur is very soft,’ he notes, stroking the Furret’s head in small, tender strokes.

‘Probably why Goodra likes it so much,’ Raihan lies. Although it might not be a lie, but he hasn’t had the Furret long enough to find out.

The Furret _purrs_.

Raihan freezes.

Leon is staring down at the pillow in his lap with a frown. ‘Did I just hear—’

‘Man, I’m hungry!’ Raihan blusters, putting one hand on his stomach. ‘Have you eaten yet? I’ll go fix us some cereal or something. Coffee?’

In a flash, he swipes the Furret out of Leon’s lap (the traitorous thing has the gall to emit a disappointed mew) and puts it back onto the seat furthest from Leon. It is sheer desperation that prompts him to grab Leon’s hand and tug him into the kitchen.

He does not expect Leon to lace their fingers together with a happy hum, but if that’s what it takes to keep his cover from getting blown, he’ll take it.

‘I’ve had breakfast already,’ Leon points out, but he squeezes Raihan’s hand.

Raihan’s heart is this close to exploding out of his chest, for more than one reason. ‘Yeah? Well, just sit there and watch the great Raihan cook, then.’

Leon’s eyes are filled with mirth. ‘You said you were making cereal.’

‘It’s still cooking!’ Bickering is good. Bickering is fine. Bickering is safe, and totally not suspicious or weirdly domestic behaviour.

Leon lets go of their joined hands and takes a seat on one of the tall chairs surrounding the kitchen island that is Raihan’s dining table. ‘Alright, whatever you say.’

Raihan grabs a box of cereal out of his cupboards and breathes out a sigh of relief. They spend the next half an hour or so exchanging entirely normal conversation while Raihan stretches out the time it takes to savour every bite of cereal. Leon makes his way through three entire cups of coffee at Raihan’s insistence. For some reason, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit buzzed at the over-caffeination. It’s a little concerning, to be honest.

When they emerge into the living room, the Furret is conspicuously missing.

‘Huh. I guess Goodra must have taken it—’

Raihan turns back to see the Furret coiled around Leon’s waist contentedly, purring as it headbutts the palm of Leon’s hand for more pats.

Leon laughs and sneaks it another bite of Raihan’s cereal. ‘You cannot seriously think you had me fooled.’

Relief trickles down Raihan’s spine like Goodra’s goo in an unfamiliar and very uncomfortable place. ‘You _knew_?’

Leon chuckles. ‘You think I haven’t seen a Furret before?’

‘And you didn’t say _anything_?’

Leon’s smile is sweet. ‘You looked like you were having fun.’

Raihan crosses his arms and scowls. ‘Well excuse _me_ for not knowing how you’d react. You just signed those papers yesterday, didn’t you?’

Leon sighs. ‘Maybe if you listened to me instead of trying to drink yourself into the next century,’ and here he gives Raihan a reproachful look, ‘you’d realise that I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.’

Raihan stares. ‘You cannot seriously be saying what I think you’re saying.’

Leon scratches the Furret under the chin. ‘What? I think he’s cute.’

Leave it to Leon to recognise Furret gender differences. ‘You— You can’t do this,’ Raihan splutters. ‘I was counting on _you_ to, I don’t know, solve my moral crisis for me or something—'

Leon snickers. ‘I’ve owned a Charmander since I was ten,’ he reminds him. ‘You think I’m about to tell you not to bend the law?’

‘Leon, you have to tell me no—’

‘When have I _ever_ been able to tell you no?’ Leon says exasperatedly, but there’s no mistaking the fondness behind it. ‘I’m not about to waste all of that precious effort of yours. Very clever of you to try passing him off as a cushion, by the way—’

‘Thanks— Wait, no, don’t distract me, you awful—’

‘An excellent strategy.’ There is a glint in Leon’s eyes. ‘As expected of the only person I acknowledge as my rival.’

Raihan can feel himself turning red. ‘ _Stop it_ — You’re just trying to make me forget about—’

With a wide grin, Leon extends his one free hand and has the nerve to scratch Raihan under the chin, not unlike how he’s currently working the Furret into putty in his hands. ‘It’s payback,’ he suggests in a low murmur, ‘for how good you were at distracting me.’

Raihan clamps his mouth shut.

‘Anyway,’ Leon continues, fingers inching up Raihan’s jaw so that his hand cups his rival’s face, ‘I’m not about to report this. Are you?’

Raihan regrets opening his big mouth the moment he realises he’s fallen right into Leon’s trap.

‘Hell no. I don’t kiss and tell.’

Leon’s lips curve into a smile that contains none of the sweetness of his previous ones. ‘I thought not.’

Soon enough, the Furret is forgotten as an addendum in the grand scheme of things.

**Author's Note:**

> furret are [1.8m long and only 32.5kg heavy](https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Furret_\(Pok%C3%A9mon\))
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/syorobao)


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